Yassen:Teenage Assasin:My Version
by Angelic-Piggy
Summary: SAT stress finally over with the last of 2008-09 testing finished...Ivan Kushnir, our future favorite assassin-to-be unknowingly starts paving out what will ultimately be his life and later his death...
1. Prologue:Ivan Kushnir

There was rubble everywhere. Ash and smoke smothered everything. Bits of wood, metal, furniture were hanging in crazy angles in dilapidated walls. It was a devastating sight. What once used to be a house was now a pile of dust. Sirens could be heard faintly in the distance. A few people glanced at the pathetic scene but turned away with indifference.

A figure moved. At first glance, it could've been a piece of rag fluttering in the wind. But the rag became a hand attached to an arm, that was miraculously still attached to the body. It struggled against the weight of the smashed refrigerator on top of it. Then the figure emerged. He was clearly a boy. However his age was obscured by the dirt that covered every centimeter of his body. He sat in a daze for a moment; his eyes were glazed over. He briefly glanced at the shredded mattress by him, collapsed and bawled as memories came flooding back.

The day had begun like any other day; the sun rose, the alarm failed to ring, and the boy was still asleep. "Ivan! Ivan!" a voice pierced the silence and tranquility. The boy groaned and pushed his pillow into his face. He fell asleep again. Stomping could be heard as a stout, middle-aged, stern faced woman came crashing into his room. "Ivan!" she shouted. The boy groaned again. This time he stuck out a hand and tried to wave his annoying mother away. The mother ruthlessly ripped away the blanket from Ivan and threw him on the floor.

"You will get up this instant!" all this was said in Russian. This was sort of obvious since the tortured boy's house was located in Omsk, the second largest city in Russia. Currently he was going through this agony of not being able to sleep because he was late for school. Very late. Ivan mumbled a sleepy yes and slowly got up to walk towards the bathroom. His mother, satisfied, stomped downstairs. Ivan unsteadily washed himself and dressed in a plain white polo shirt matched with casual blue jeans. This was against the dress code since a uniform was required. To hell with the uniform. Then he remembered his mother's threat to attack him with whatever was in her hand at the moment. In a good day it would be his exercise book. On a bad day it could be a kitchen knife. He sighed and put on his school blazer which was an ugly grey with a strange way of making its wearer look deformed. He was not wearing the rest of the drab grey uniform. He studied himself briefly in the mirror. He was a boy of 14, had fair hair, almost feminine eyelashes together with piercing blue eyes. His body was well toned, perfectly proportioned and had an air of a professional dancer. He grimaced as the fabric of his shirt brushed against his latest bruise on his chest.

Last night had been difficult. He was almost caught by the police. It was close but he managed to get away. If it wasn't for the bullet proof vest he would've been dead by now. He shook his head and went downstairs. His mother, Anna Kushnir, was making breakfast. It smelled as bad as usual. His father, Sergey Kushnir was intently studying the newspaper held almost lazily in his hands. Ivan slipped into a seat. When his mother saw he had dressed casually again she frowned dangerously. Ivan gulped and wolfed down the disgusting scrambled eggs in front of him. A silence fell upon the three as the oil stopped spitting in the frying pan. Anna coughed. "Sergey? Aren't you going to say something to Ivan?" she said casually implying that Ivan needed to be disciplined.

"Yes these are some very bad scrambled eggs," said Sergey absent-mindedly. Anna fumed.

"I didn't mean you to comment on my cooking!" she shouted. Sergey's head snapped up.

"What? I wasn't listening," after that his eyes were once again fixed on his newspaper. Anna sighed and held up her hands that clearly said I give up. Ivan fought to stop a smile tugging at his lips. The way they acted you would never know they worked for a top secret division for the government, researching in ways to use newly discovered chemicals to create lethal weapons. Of course they were bound by secrecy even to their families. How did Ivan know? Well, let's just say he has his ways. He hid the last spoonful of eggs under the plate and stood up.

"Well I'm going to school," he snatched up his bag. As he was hurrying towards the door his mum caught his arm.

"You forgot your tie," she forced the tie around Ivan's neck.

"Not the tie! It's the ugliest thing in the uniform! And besides how do you suppose I wear a tie with a polo shirt?" he complained. She ignored him. She tugged with surprising strength as she adjusted the tie. Ivan winced as her hand connected with his bruise. Anna noticed immediately. Her face darkened.

"Ivan. Where were you last night?" she asked. Ivan avoided her gaze.

"I was out with some friends," he muttered. Anna's face darkened even more.

"Ivan what have you been doing? Those friends... are they forcing you to do this? Because if they are, you don't have to do it... is it the money? We will give you some. Our job does pay us very decently..." she was about to continue when Ivan put his hand gently on her mouth. He smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry mother. I can't tell you the reason. It will only make you worry more..." with that he turned his back on her and walked out of the door. Little did he know that this was the last time that he will see his parents again.


	2. The First Dead Body

Ivan trodded to school; each step was dragged, each sling of arm was forced, his head bobbed slightly as he dozed off, and he was obviously already bored before even reaching school. He didn't even bother going to his locker. He creaked open the door to his form room and sat down unnoticed by anybody. It wasn't that he was a loner. His friends were just in different classes. His eyes flitted across the room as he began his routine personal training. He took pride in himself that he was never caught off guard. He was always alert. In his opinion, he was the strongest teenager in the whole school. His personal training consisted of moving around without presence, listening intently to the things going around him, and noticing the slightest details that might be out of ordinary. Well, the school was ugly as ever, everybody gossiped about the most superficial things, the teacher was late -as usual- and he was bored. One thing he did notice though was a slip of paper just out of sight under one of the legs of his desk. He didn't even try to hide his actions as he loudly moved the desk and with exaggerated movements swiped the paper from under the desk and waved it about to get rid of the dust clinging to it. Nobody took notice. Ivan smirked. the more you try to hide something, the more you attract attention. He glanced at the piece of paper.

_Congratulations on your success last night 9-11. We will meet tonight once more at the alley. 25-7 _

Ivan felt a smile tug at his lips. He couldn't believe this guy. They were going to meet at lunch and he hides a note under his desk. He looked at his code name: 9-11. It was ironic that the emergency call in America is used for a teenager who commits crimes almost every other night. The numbers were taken by the number that their initials appeared in the English alphabet. Ivan had thought it up and since he was the only one with even the slightest bit of knowledge of the English language he gave all the numbers out. He was I, K, therefore 9-11.

The teacher finally stumbled into the classroom. He fumbled with his glasses for 5 minutes before with a raspy voice began his lecture. Ivan barely listened and dozed off. So this is how all the uneventful classes passed until lunch time came. He walked towards the cafeteria, his eyes searching for his friends. He spotted them at the most invisible table in the whole place. He slumped down on his seat.

"Hey Ivan," said the boy nearest him.

"Hey Yassen," said Ivan. Yassen, or Yassen Gregorovich, was the 25-7 that had sent him the note. Ivan briefly rolled his eyes before speaking.

"You know you didn't have to send me a note. Leaving evidence is one of the crucial mistakes that many people make," said Ivan harshly. Yassen scratched his head, a little embarrassed. Ivan looked at the other two boys with them. They were a year younger than Ivan and Yassen. Ivan recognized Yassen as his equal, but he didn't even bother learning the other two's name. He simply called them No. 1 and No. 2.

"So," said Yassen. "Last night went pretty well. Ivan managed to deliver the drugs on time and nobody was caught by the police," Yassen grinned at Ivan. Ivan only scowled.

"Last night only went pretty well because I managed to distract the police because somebody had to be careless and trip over a rigged wire," Ivan growled staring intently at No. 1. No. 1. whimpered and did his best to avoid the piercing gaze.

"Loosen up a little Ivan! By the way, we're going to have a party. You know, just the original boys, excluding the number members," said Yassen. Ivan thought about it. There were 5 original members including Yassen and Ivan. The other three were: Ludvig Ivanov (14-9), David Baranova (4-2), and Dmitri Ivanski (4-9). Ivan sighed. He knew it was a mistake to go to a party. But what the hell. He had nothing to do.

"Alright I'll be there,"

School had finally ended after the stubborn clock decided to push off and ring the bell. Ivan unhooked his beat up scooter from the railing and went off to the Alley. The Alley was the nickname for a street where the houses were built so close together that a motorcycle had trouble driving through it. The police didn't care about this place because once while patrolling one of their cars got stuck between two houses. It was still there like a dead corpse hanging just above the ground. If anybody was to look very carefully underneath the car, they would have noticed a hole in the ground. The hole could only be accessed inside the car. The hole lead to the basement of David Baranova's house. It was an escape route. It was also used so no one would notice 5 suspicious teenagers meeting up. Ivan swiftly, with agility threw himself down the hole and carefully tread the tunnel they took a month to make. At the end of the tunnel was a worm-eaten wooden door that Ivan refused to touch no matter how much his teammates protested they needed a secret knock. Ivan walked up to this said door.

"It's 9-11 open up," he announced.

There was a moment of silence. The door cracked open slightly and the muddy brown eyes of David could be seen. Once he saw that it was indeed Ivan, he threw open the door with a big welcome to our humble Alley. Ivan resisted the urge to roll his eyes and stepped inside. The basement was damp and what looked like week old moldy cheese was smeared all over the wall. It turned out it was a recent makeover to try and "cheer up" this place. Ivan wrinkled his nose.

"What have you done to this place?" he muttered. Everybody ignored him and pretended that the walls were the most beautiful thing they had ever laid eyes upon. Ivan turned his attention to the pathetic thing called a table. His eyes narrowed as he saw the bottles of liquor and little packets of drugs littered all over the place.

"What is this?" he pronounced every word painfully. All the boys flinched at his tone. Nobody dared to answer. Yassen plucked up the courage to speak.

"Eh, well since our last job went so well and we were paid money equivalent to about 1000 we thought we should celebrate with some good old liquor and drugs," his voice died as he reached the end of his statement. Ivan's eyes were colder than the night wind outside. Yassen at that moment wished that he was in the artic ocean naked than endure the gaze of his friend.

"You know what we agreed on about things that dull our senses," Ivan spat out every word. He glared at the bottles and packets before smashing them against the wall; ripping the packets, emptying them onto the spilling liquor, smashing the already broken table against the wall and smashing his foot down on the broken pieces of glass until they turned to powder. Ivan ignored the blood dripping out of his shoes as more glass pieces stabbed the sole of his foot. But through this temper tantrum, his face never once showed an emotion. It remained stoic and cold. It was what frightened his friends the most.

"Listen to me...you so called friends...if I ever...ever, catch you again with stuff like this, I will personally turn you into the police. I don't care if you kill steal or blow up the government, but I care if you stupidly and blindly throw yourselves away willingly by poisoning yourself," his voice had no emotion. But everybody trembled. Yassen was the only one unaffected. He had known Ivan too long to already know that Ivan would never turn in one of his own. Yassen opened his mouth to say something when loud sirens could be heard. Just above their hiding place.

Everyone froze. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. The sirens were still there. Footsteps could be heard. Ivan's sharp ears concluded that the footsteps were walking towards the abandoned police car just 3 feet away from the basement. Ivan turned to his friends.

"We have to get out of here now," he whispered. Everyone nodded. They climbed out of the basement and into the main house. They tiptoed across the hallways and walked to the front door. Yassen peeked out of one of the tiny windows. He glanced at Ivan. He raised his hand and did a motion like he was tipping his hat. A sign for police. Ivan realized that everyone was in a tight situation here. Panic first rose in his chest. How did they find out they were criminals? How did they find the secret entrance? He didn't know but one thing was clear: they had a serious problem. Ivan looked at his friends for a moment. Fear was clearly etched on their faces. Yassen was the only one who remained calm and kept an eye on the polices' movements. Ivan sighed as he thought of a plan.

"Ok, here's what we do," he said. Everybody turned their attention to him.

"I will first dash out as the distraction. Then you will all run out at the same time and scatter alright?" before anyone could protest. He raised three fingers.

He silently gestured, 3, 2, 1...

He gritted his teeth tightly and burst out into the street. He saw as he whisked pass, the police had figured out the tunnel lead to this house and was walking towards it. Their eyes widened in surprise but understanding came quickly: he was a criminal. They fumbled for their guns. Ivan was already out of sight. He ran at top speed until his lungs squeezed in his chest and his heart threatened to burst. He heard gunfire at a distance. He closed his eyes and prayed for the first time in his life. God please let them be safe. Please don't let them be killed. He hid in the shadows and waited. How long did he wait? He didn't know. Maybe it was just a few seconds, maybe it was 10 minutes, maybe it was a whole hour. He waited until he was sure that every nerve in his body had calmed down. He carefully retraced his steps to David's house. The Alley was quiet once more. There was no sign of police or any police cars minus the abandoned one. He sighed with relief. Until he saw a slumped figure on the side of the street. His heart was in his mouth as he rushed to its side. His worst fear had come true. One of his friends were dead. He couldn't see who he was since his back was facing up. The blood seeping out of the shirt indicated that the bullet went straight through the heart and out of his back. Ivan prayed for the second time in his life. The desperate situation made him religious. Who else did he have to cling to? Please God, please don't let it be Yassen. It wouldn't matter much if it were those other disobedient idiots. But please not Yassen. Please, please... He turned the body over. He collapsed as he saw that the dead body was indeed Yassen. Yassen was always laughing and joking. Now, his eyes were like two bullet holes: empty and lifeless. It seemed to say: Ivan, it's all your fault that I died. Ivan it's all your fault that you lived and I died. Ivan gasped and backed away, suddenly afraid of the corpse. It was the first time he had seen a dead body. He knew it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He refused to cry. He took off his school blazer, softly closed Yassen's eyes, and placed the blazer over his face. Then he slowly walked away.


	3. Ivan's First Death:Yassen's Second Death

**Author's Note: I was away on vacation for a week. So for anyone actually waiting for updates here it is!! From now on the story will be updated every other day.**

When his feet somehow found its own way home, Ivan collapsed on the sofa in the living room. His mind was blank at the moment. He couldn't think of anything. Yassen, the guy he considered his brother, had died because of somebody's foolishness. This thought hardened his eyes. How had it never crossed his mind? Nobody knew about the meeting place. Nobody except the five original members. By the fear and surprise emitted from his friends, Ivan doubted any of them could be a traitor. Then who was it?

Ivan sat up as the wheels began to turn in his brain. He lifted his hand to make a call. He flinched in surprise when the phone rang. He picked it up.

"Hello? Ivan Kushnir speaking," he said

"Ivan? Thank goodness! You have to get out of there now!" the panicked voice of his father blasted out of the phone.

"Wh-What? Father what are you talking about?" he said

"Don't argue with me! Get out of the house now!" in the background Ivan could hear his mother sobbing out words. He caught the words "never should have listened", and "Black Touch", and "I love you Ivan". Ivan was shocked. His mother was acting like she was about to die.

"Father, is mother there?" said Ivan. He heard his mother say in a stricken voice: "There's no time! I can't speak to him! You have to warn him Sergey!" And sure enough his father's voice cut through.

"Ivan you have to get out of the house now! There's a b-"

There was silence. Then the continuous beep of the phone was all that was left of the desperate phone call. Ivan slowly put the phone down, unable to comprehend what he just heard. His father was telling him to get out of the house. But why? Ivan decided to listen to his father. He just needed to go upstairs and pack his things since he was planning on not coming home for a few days. He was about to reach under the bed to grab his emergency supplies.

Something stopped him in his tracks. Nothing had happened. But something...His intuition was telling him that something was terribly wrong.

Then, he heard it. An almost silent beeping echoing around his room.

He now knew what his father wanted to say.

There's a bomb.

Ivan only had enough time to grab his mattress and to turn it towards the direction of the beeping before the bomb exploded. It was like nothing he imagined. The sound itself was threatening to tear his ear drums to pieces. A numbness came as the shock wave hit him like a cement wall. Then pain came shattering through his brain as his figure hit the window, hurling him outside the house. Ivan realized later that he had been extremely lucky. If he hadn't grabbed the mattress in time, he would have been blown to pieces as soon as the bomb went off. And if his body had hit the wall of his room, the furniture would have crashed into him, killing him almost instantly. Ivan smashed into the pavement below. He felt his body being pressed like a pancake as his house fell apart on top of him. He struggled to stay conscious. Then when the weight was too much, he gave up. Darkness enveloped him.

--

It had only been two minutes after the explosion settled when Ivan regained his consciousness. He wondered if he was dead. He wondered if this was what people called hell. It sure felt like it. He tried to move but his body was currently wedged between the pavement and a refrigerator with heavy debris as a bonus. Ivan groaned as he put all his strength into his back and miraculously lifted himself up. He should be dead. If it wasn't for his father, he should be dead. He wrestled with the refrigerator to get himself above this horrid sight. He relaxed in the breeze. He could hear sirens. He measured the distance of the police cars with his ears. It would be another fifteen minutes before they got here. He briefly observed the scenery around. Then, he couldn't hold it in anymore. Huge drops of tears freely flowed down his face. He screamed until his throat turned hoarse. In one day, his best friend, whom he considered as his brother died, his parents were probably dead, and his house was bombed. He sobbed his heart out. Finally, his mind started working. The people who had killed his parents had tried to kill him. What if they found out that he was still alive? Ivan panicked as he listened to the sirens again. They were ten minutes away. His mind clicked as an idea blazed in his brain. Without hesitation, he ran at full speed towards the Alley.

He calculated he could make there in about three minutes. He was there in two minutes. He knew that the police would leave Yassen's body for a full day before even bothering to pick it up. Sure enough, Yassen was still sprawled on the ground. The differences were that his blazer was thrown away and there was a chalk outline around Yassen. Without stopping he threw himself down the hole underneath the abandoned police car and burst into the former meeting place. The place was a mess. It was obvious the police had raided the basement only moments before. Ivan ignored the mess as his eyes flitted across the room. He found the shovel still selotaped to the ceiling. He ripped it out and furiously began to dig the ground. His mind was still calmly measuring the time: two minutes for sprinting, one minutes to get down here and start digging, digging for three minutes. Out of the ground he pulled out two bottles filled with petroleum. He did not even pause to breathe. He rushed out of the hideout, ran towards Yassen's body, dumped the body on his back, and raced through the streets. Another two minutes passed as he sprinted. His mind screamed: two minutes left. He gritted his teeth as he neared the house. The situation must have given him superhuman abilities. He did not change pace as he roughly put Yassen on the ground, opened the two bottles and sprayed the remains of his house with the deadly liquid. He hesitated a few precious seconds as he picked up the body of his friend. "I'm sorry about giving you this kind of funeral," Ivan almost saw a smile on Yassen's face. He could practically hear Yassen's playful voice saying:

"I might as well go with a bang! Besides, I always wanted to go to a bonfire," Ivan grinned. Even after dying, Yassen could make him laugh. Ivan quickened his movements as he heard that the police cars were only seconds away. He moved like lightening as he whipped his wallet out of his pocket, stuff it in his friend's, rummage around for a lighter and gently lay Yassen on the debris. He said a silent goodbye. He lit the lighter, threw it towards his former house and ran into the night as the flames leaped into the heavens.


	4. The Fat Man, The Temporary Disguise

**Author's Note: After this chapter, I will be busy with an online class and preparations for SAT so for anyone reading this (I really wish there was ( you'll have to wait for any future chapters. Thank you for anyone who even glances at this story! ) Also I did some research on contact lenses for the sake of this chapter**

In the world, there are countless men working for the good of the government. Most of them lie through their teeth and deceive others. A small minority is true their words and is virtuous in their actions. Then there is the even fewer numbers that are hidden deeply in the shadows. Their intentions never see the light. Secrets are kept from all men. They work for themselves or sell themselves to people. These are dangerous lethal men. They are poison to their government. Yet sometimes, they are the very pillars that will support the future. The silhouette sitting on the comfortable chair in front of an antique desk is one of those few numbers. The whole desk was littered with countless pieces of paper. Some of them, contained information that spies would cut out their own heart out for. Some of them, were worthless, irrelevant doodles that the man drew as he talked on the phone. He was on the phone right now. A fountain pen worth approximately 500 Euros was cradled in his hand. He absent-mindedly drew a crooked circle, going over and over and over, each crooked circle turning more deformed than the last.

"So," spoke his soft, silky voice. "I trust that the invalids have been taken care of?" A satisfied smile was gracing his face. If it wasn't for the sinister gleam in his charcoal eyes, anyone would have thought that he was being handed over the nobel peace prize.

"Yes sir. All the scientists not needed and any scientists who may know too much has been taken care of along with their families," said the correspondent. "And in case the scientists tried to warn their families, we planted bombs in their houses a month before the project was complete," a hidden grin was in the voice of the phone. The man's smile widened. He didn't bother to reply as he put the phone back in its place. Everything was perfect. Soon...soon...He will grasp the power of the whole nation...and maybe later...He eerily chuckled at his own imagination of power.

--

Ivan woke with a start. Cold sweat was dripping down all over his body. He grimaced as he peeled off the polo shirt off of his back. To try and wake his brain, he ruffled his hair as he tried to remember what he dreamt. A few minutes passed and he reached for his clock when he realized where he was. His current location was in the abandoned police car in the Alley. After much thinking, Ivan logically concluded that a successful raid of a gang hideout would prevent police from searching the same place again. The police car was the perfect place to stay. The padding in the seats were old and worn but it also meant that it wasn't stiff or smelled strongly of new leather. Also, when the seat was lifted up, in the gap between the bottom of the seats and the tires, there were stashes of water, packets of rations, tylenol, vitamins and basic pills for basic treatment. It was regrettable, however, that when Ivan thought of this brilliant idea, he forgot to stash money. All of his share of the rewards were hidden in his house. Now it was a useless pile of dust. He couldn't go back to sleep so he waited until the sun peeked at the horizon. Before setting out of the car, he mentally went over his plan. He was to go as unnoticed as possible to the city-if that is possible with clothes soaked in dirt, blood and who knows what-and buy himself products to disguise himself as another person. From now on, he was to take over the identity of Yassen Gregorovich. And then, he had plans for revenge. He thought he would honor his friend by making his name famous. He didn't yet know exactly how to do that. But he vowed to make that happen one day. Yassen and Ivan had always been told that they looked like twins to a certain extent. However, he was still Ivan Kushnir as long as he had fair hair, blue eyes, a killer's aura compared to Yassen's dark hair, dark eyes and the aura of a friendly uncle. He sighed as it dawned on him how hard this was going to be.

Ten minutes later, he had dressed with clothes from the nearby laundry line, which consisted of a too big off white shirt, a pair of khaki pants that stopped right above his ankles and a pair of rubber sandals. The moment he entered a small time all-around store, he felt embarrassed by his ensemble. The feeling disappeared when he got a good look at who was running the store. The shopkeeper was extremely fat. He had double chins on his double chins, the fat of his stomach rolled layers and layers of an avalanche that strained the poor pair of pants on the man. Ivan couldn't help it. He was staring. The shopkeeper looked up.

"Oh hello! How can I help you?" a cheery smile appeared on what Ivan supposed to be the face and not the double chins. The man had a bad accent to his Russian. Ivan opened his mouth to speak then closed it. Silence ensued. The shopkeeper coughed.

"The name's Smithers by the way," said Smithers. Ivan frowned.

"Are you British?" asked Ivan

"Yes! I am temporarily living here for my wife. The doctor suggested that she takes two weeks off from work. She's a workaholic. Then she went and decided she liked this place better than England! I'm currently trying to convince her to go back," said Smithers, continuing in his garble of bad accents. Ivan had a hard time understanding him.

"Is it more comfortable for you if I talk in English?" said Ivan in English. Smithers' eyes widened.

"My my you are a talented lad! You speak English like a native Britishman! Though there is a slight Russian accent here and there," Ivan took note of this. He was currently fluent in Russian, English, German, Spanish, French and Chinese. When he was seven years old, he found that he had a talent and fondness for languages and decided then and then to try and speak as many languages as possible like a native. In many occasions, being multilingual helped him to make deals in his "profession".

"I didn't mean to be rude earlier. It's just that I've never seen someone so...so..." Ivan searched through his vocabulary list for a word that meant extremely humongous and not offensive at the same time.

"You mean you've never seen anyone so fat? It's alright my boy! I am very well aware that I am extremely fat. An elephant would not tip the scale for me! Now now, what did you come to my humble shop for?" said Smithers, speaking in rapid British like his tongue was getting over excited from the freedom of speech.

"I need a hair dye that will stay in my hair very long but I don't want anything permanent. Also I was wondering if you have something to change my eye color without using chemicals that damages my sight, though I doubt anything that sophisticated has come out yet. Lastly, I would like a few rolls of bandages and ketchup," Smithers looked thoughtful. He seemed to be wrestling something in his mind. It showed slightly because his eyes were squintier than they were when Ivan first laid eyes on him. He hesitated before speaking.

"Well...since I like you so much and it is so much fun working with teenagers! Adults are so boring! They have limits blocking my creativity in every corner! I will give you very special items, not ever shown on the market yet!" He got up and waddled with surprising speed to the back of the shop. Ivan briefly considered leaving before he followed. The back of the shop was less crowded with junk than the front. Ivan looked on doubtfully for the "special items". A few seconds later, his jaw was slightly ajar when Smithers walked up to a barewall, smacked his pudgy thumb on it and opened a secret door.

"Welcome to my crib!" he joked. The room itself wasn't too impressive but Ivan somehow got the feeling that he will be seeing things that only a few chosen people around the world were allowed to see. He carefully chose a cardboard box and slowly sat on it.

"Now my boy you were talking about a semi-permanent hair dye? Well you could get those anywhere but these last for at least a whole month whether you stand in the rain or take a dive in the ocean," he handed over to Ivan a shampoo bottle with no label.

"Why don't you try it out while I get your other requested items?" said Smithers. "There's sink over there and and a hand mirror inside that drawer underneath the tranquilizer dart board," Ivan stopped in his tracks going to the sink. Tranquilizer dart board? Sure enough there was an ordinary looking dart board and a box of darts laying on top of it. He picked up the piece of paper inside the box and read it.

_The Tranquilizer Dart Board_

_How to use:_

_1. When threatened by an enemy, casually throw the dart to the dartboard._

_2. When you pull out the dart, the motion of the pull on the head of the dart powered by speed will trigger the mechanism inside the dart._

_3. Push the wings on the dart and the tranquilizer point will shoot out. _

"Smithers? What's the point of the dartboard if any surface can trigger the mechanism?" asked Ivan. Smithers appeared behind a stash of what looked suspiciously like the flakes of Kellogs Cornflakes. He scratched his head.

"That's why it was never used. I revised it into a tranquilizer pen that can be activated by a slight pull. Except it can't be used for taking notes! So I'm revising that too," He disappeared again. Ivan pocketed the box of darts. He might find it useful in the future. After much searching, he found the sink abandoned behind a huge box that was astonishingly light to the touch. He quickly rubbed the shampoo into his head and washed the foam out. He found the mirror and looked at himself. His hair was now completely dark, just like Yassen's. He was impressed. This Smithers guy may seem a little unreliable, but his skills were definitely good.

"Ah! Here we are! This is called the contact lenses. But I personally like to call it an Eye Candy" said Smithers. Ivan raised an eyebrow.

"Now I know what you're thinking. Ignore the name. It's a hobby of mine to give inventions unusual names. This invention has been around for quite sometime invented by a brilliant scientist called Otto Wichterle. You probably have heard of it but never used it before right?" As he said this Smithers opened a small container. Inside of it, there was what looked like two little discs the size of a fingertip, floating inside a clear liquid. Smithers picked it up and delicately placed it on one of Ivan's fingertips. Ivan now saw that it was actually a concave disc. It was dark in color and soft to the touch.

"Put it in your eye," said Smithers. Ivan took it gingerly and held it on his fingertip.

"Yes but you need to be careful that it doesn't fold. You have to layer it exactly on your eye," Smithers gave a look that said trust me. Ivan knew that with technology, a pair of contact lenses shouldn't be surprising. It was his first time seeing one. He couldn't help but marvel at the tiny thing and shake a little as he put the device in his eye. He blinked out tears. He could feel an extra layer underneath his eyelid.

"Put the other one in," ordered Smithers. Ivan did. His eyes felt uncomfortable. And was it just him or did the room get slightly darker?

"Look in the mirror," said Smithers grinning with triumph. Ivan did as he was told. To his amazement he found that his blue eyes had turned into dark brown ones that he knew looked exactly like Yassen's.

"This...this is brilliant!" he couldn't help exclaiming.

"So is your eye very uncomfortable?" asked Smithers. Ivan rubbed his eye a little.

"I'll get used to it," he said. Smithers then handed him the container and a bottle of the clear liquid he had seen in it.

"To avoid eye infections, you have to carefully take the Eye Candy out by grabbing it by the tip of your thumb and index finger, then wash it with the clear liquid and leave it in the container with the clear liquid for at least 6 hours a day. It'll run out in about a month. I advise you throw the Eye Candy...uh contacts away by that time or else it might infect you," instructed Smithers.

"It's only a temporary disguise. At the longest, a week or two to uh... avoid... the um... getting put into... an adoption agency," Ivan was very impressed by the skills of this man. A thought occurred to him. He observed the fat man in front of him. Smithers had already done so much for him. Could he ask another favor?

"Um.. Smithers? I have another favor to ask of you..." said Ivan hesitatingly.

"Ask away my boy!"

"Could you... possibly give me a fake bullet wound on my left shoulder?" Smithers' eyes darkened a little.

"Now why would a teenager like you want that?" he said. Ivan flinched.

"Never mind. Forget I said that," he turned to go but stopped when a pudgy hand firmly gripped his shoulder.

"Are you somehow being threatened?" asked Smithers. Before Ivan could answer, Smithers hurried about as he prepared for something. When he finished-with a completely serious face- he came to Ivan.

"How real do you want the scar to be?" asked Smithers.

"As real as possible. I was going to shoot myself with an actual gun but right now I don't have the money to get one," Smithers sighed.

"Then you have to prepare for some pain," Ivan nodded. Smithers pointed at a chair. When Ivan sat down Smithers blindfolded him. As darkness came over his eyes he wondered how far was he willing to go to change himself?


	5. I am Yassen Gregorovich

**SAT's are finally over for the year of 2008 and 2009. FINALLY nothing's important in my life!!!!! XD So I will be continuing this fanfiction for the sake of my 4 reviewers and a few favoriters of my story~ Since it is spring break you may expect an update of at least 10 chapters before this break is over. For ANYONE actually reading this fic I will drabble a little bit more before I start the actual story.**

**Out of 4 reviews I got (I know it's a small amount but I think off the top of my head that's the most I got for any of my fics) 50% of them complained about the title of my fic. To clarify why I did that in the first place, it was because I really love Anthony Horrowitz for creating his awesome novel and his complex characters. I did not wish in any way to claim that any of his works belong to me. **

**Also, recently he has announced that he will be releasing two more Alex Rider oriented adventures and Yassen the Teenage Assasin will be pushed back until after Alex's last adventure is over.**

**One more thing before the chapter (god someone should ductape my mouth right now) in one of the reviews, it was commented that this story is a little depressing which basically follows the trend of all Yassen stories. Hmmm.... well I personally prefer happy stories with happy endings. Not a everything-in-the-world-is-jolly-oh-my-God-I-have-a-fairy-godparent-who-gives-me-free-designer-dresses-and-hand-made-glass-shoes type of story but one where there is complex character development and through hardwork and relationships, there is happiness. **

**HOWEVER**

**Anthony Horrowitz's original style of writing consists of very depressing aspects. Alex is only 14 and already he is manipulated by both government and illegal psycho gangs, all his relatives are dead or not there, his life is in danger every other week, and once the girl he likes called him a liar and he almost got killed by his clone!!! PLUS, (spoiler warning for some) the person who killed his parents turned out to be his godfather!!!! **

**It is my wish (and a very wistful probably-will-not-come-true wish) to be very faithful to his style and not muck it up and bring disgrace to Alex Rider fanfiction and Anthony Horrowitz's name. **

**Ok enough talk. I promise there will NEVER EVER be a author's note this long again. **

**Let's begin the chapter!!! =3**

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Ivan waded through darkness. He momentarily forgot that Smithers had drugged him to keep him from feeling any pain. His whole body felt heavy as lead. Strange. He always thought that you would feel very light when drugged. As he explored his unconsciousness he mulled over past events. He thought about his parents, his friends, his life, his dead friend.... Here he gritted his teeth (or what he thought to be his teeth) and choked back a tear. Not that his body would respond to the wailings of his brain under the affects of anesthesia.

It was his fault. A sharp pain stabbed through his chest. It was his fault. His mind screamed with guilt. It was him who talked Yassen into making easy money. It was him who convinced him that drug dealing was safe with the state of the police being so unorganized. Another wave of sadness crashed into Ivan and he began sobbing quietly.

"Sorry to be so intruding, but are you crying?" a voice broke through the haze. Ivan hadn't noticed that he was awake. He groggily forced his eyes open and saw the double chins of a concerned Smithers. Ivan did not answer but roughly wiped his eyes. He carefully ignored him as he slowly tested the responsiveness of his limbs. In a sluggish, gingerly fashion, he walked over to the mirror to check that his hair and contacts were still doing its job. After a thorough check up, he pulled down the collar of his shirt to look at his shoulder. An extremely convincing bullet wound met his eyes. The scars, the left over blood, the slight scabbing and even a faint circle of bruise to finish off.

"Thanks for everything," Ivan muttered. He made his way to the door.

"Wait," Smithers stood. His eyes revealed he wanted to interrogate Ivan as to why he needed this disguise. Eventually his shoulders relaxed, revealing he decided to let it go.

"The fake bullet wound I made is only a centimetre deep. Its deep enough to look real but it's not deep enough to leave a scar. So I had to make a scar by stitching your skin. The scabs are fake. It's only crushed cornflake crumbs dipped in red paint so make sure not to wash it until actual scabs appear," he paused.

"You know, in my time in Russia I've met many kids like you. I won't deny Russia is a very beautiful place and quite a pleasant place to live in. Yet somehow, you kids..." here he shook his head a little. "You kids are always somehow in a lot of trouble. I don't know why they feel a need to throw their lives away just so they can feel a little thrill," Ivan said nothing. He had first started the drug business for a completely justifiable reason. However, he could not deny that on occasions, the strength and excitement he felt from adrenaline pumping through his systems allured him to challenge much more dangerous jobs. He was snapped out of his thoughts when Smithers gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I hope that with what I've done, you will be safe another day. And maybe, soon you will realize that this isn't the life you were meant to live," Ivan felt his stomache lurch but his face remained unreadable. He turned to exit the shop.

"By the way,"

Ivan stopped in his tracks.

"I never got your name"

"It's Iv-" he stopped. No. He was not Ivan anymore.

"My name is Yassen Gregorovich,"

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**A/N: I know this is a short chapter but I need to get my writing pace back after all that not writing. I keep getting stuck every other sentence searching for the right word. So much for SAT essay practices XP. But do not worry my readers! I will update soon and by soon I mean very soon....**


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